


Saudade

by sofiathefool



Series: The Story of a Former Technician and a YouTuber [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Death, Disease, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heart Attacks, M/M, Old Age, Other, Series Finale, these were my previous usernames ignore those tags, unitedstatesofparadise, unitedstatesofphantasia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofiathefool/pseuds/sofiathefool
Summary: “Saudade is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. A stronger form of saudade might be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing, moved away, separated, or died."Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings altogether, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.”**Final work of the "The Story of a YouTuber and a Former Technician" series | Read tags for triggers**





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the 1st November has arrived, and with it the final installment of this series. I hope you enjoy it. <3
> 
> NOTE: This work has not yet been completely edited. I will try and reread it in order to correct mistakes and inconsistencies tomorrow. You'll know I did when I remove this note.

 

 

 

 

 

“ _Saudade_ is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. A stronger form of _saudade_ might be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing, moved away, separated, or died.

 _Saudade_ was once described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone. _Saudade_ is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings altogether, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.”

In Wikipedia, <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade>

 

_“a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present” (..) “not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness.”_

Audrey Bell, in “ _In Portugal_ ”, 1912

 

…

_3 rd May 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_I find myself staring at this cursed empty piece of paper, not knowing where to start. However, I also find myself not wanting to even write. It all feels like a meaningless dream, as if I am constantly walking in a haze through cold empty hallways._

_Judith came over has soon has she heard. She said Mark and little Annie would come as soon as they could. The phone has been buzzing since Sunday, but I haven’t picked up. I’m afraid that, if I do pick up, I will be forced to acknowledge that what happened was real, that I’m not stuck in some kind of twisted, perverted dream. At this point, I don’t know what’s worse, believing the lie or conforming to the truth._

_How could I ever conform to this, though? To this wretched semi-existence, this constant feeling of a phantom limb in my heart?_

_It’s Tuesday, but it feels like Sunday. It has never stopped feeling like Sunday. Dark and gloomy, cloudy and cold. Definitely all a Sunday is and should ever be._

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

…

_8 th May 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_Judith has not left the house since last Sunday. Mark and wee little Annie have arrived yesterday and they are here to stay for a long while, it seems._

_She is the one keeping the house together. I have no strength. Every time I try to move my hand, my whole arm trembles as if I were the lone victim of a grand earthquake. Even writing now is a difficult task, but Judith insisted I do this. She said it would help ease the pain. I don’t know if anything ever can._

_This is the most I can muster today. The pain is yet too great, too overwhelming. One day I’ll tell you all I feel, all I miss… I will tell you about all the ghosts you have left in your wake, all the whispers and phantom touches. I will tell you, but not today._

_Today is still a day for mourning. I’m not ready to let go just yet._

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

 

...

_12 th May 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_I was taken to hospital after passing out and hitting my head. They had me stay for a couple of days but gave me medical leave today. The doctors said I passed out from exhaustion, hunger and dehydration, but the fall didn’t do anything to me besides causing me to be unconscious for a few hours._

_They had strangely grim faces when they talked to me. I wonder if all doctors are so serious these days. Only the nurses smiled at me._

_I don’t remember falling, but Judith nagged me about it to the point of it almost feeling like a true memory. She’s worried about me. She said she didn’t want to lose me so soon after losing you. It made me realize how selfish I have been, staring at the ceiling in the wee hours of the night, wishing to leave this world and join you wherever you are, if there is even a way to join you._

_All I ever wish to do is be with you. You haunt my every waking minute, luring and enticing me to go where I can’t follow ~~, at least not for now~~. Judith needs me here as much I need her, and little Annie is still sad over her favourite grandpa not being here to tell her all about those magic mushrooms for the hundredth time. I should like to see her smile again, so I’ll stay._

_It’s funny how one finds the smallest reasons to linger when there are none. We’re all desperate to live, even when we have all the reasons in the world to die. We’re all afraid of what we don’t know, of what we cannot comprehend… I think, at the end, it’s one of the things that makes us human. I wonder what you’d say…_

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

…

 

“Mark, love, could you please pass me the potatoes?” Judith requested absentmindedly as she stirred the pot on the stove, but no sound other than the muted howling of the wind and the splatter of raindrops on the windows replied. She turned around with a creased brow, finding her husband hunched on his stool, staring tearfully at the screen of his phone. Frowning, she silently walked towards him, stopping right behind his tense body.

She peeked at the phone. She frowned.

_“BBC Radio 1 Pays Homage to Defunct Award-Winning DJ Phil Lester”_

Her breath caught in her throat and she swayed in her spot, having to rest her hands on her husband’s shoulders to steady herself. She kept on reading.

_“On the past Sunday, the first of May of 2072, the award-winning Radio 1 DJ Phil Lester passed away after a severe cardiac arrest in his home in Rossendale._

_Messages have flown around the Internet and memorials have settled in various spots across England since then to pay homage to the English star, but by far, the most prominent homage has come from Lester’s former comrades at the radio station._

_“We felt it was important to extol Phil’s great achievements, whilst at the same time raising further awareness to heart conditions,” explained Mark Ralston, who’s wedded to Lester’s daughter, Judith Howell-Lester. “It’s never enough to do so.”_

_Ralston, along with the remaining members of the radio station organised “Heart Week”, a week in which the usual radio programmes will be adjusted in order to contain activities or contests pertaining to heart health. The week will culminate with next Sunday’s “Take One For The Heart” event at the Regent’s Park in London, which will offer access to various sports as well as educational activities aimed at individuals of all ages._

_“At the end of the afternoon, there will be a marathon starting at the Big Ben and ending at the Regent’s Park, where the remaining activities will continue to take place for those who don’t wish to run,” informed Patricia Reed, the programme supervisor of the radio station._

_“We all miss Phil,” said Morgan Bleak, the famous face of Radio 1. “I feel that this is the very least we can do to pay homage to him, after all he’s done for us. Our hearts go out to his family, to whom we send our condolences and hopes for better days to come.”_

_“Heart Week” will begin tomorrow, the 16 th of May, with the station’s 6AM programme, “Good Morning, England”, starring Rita Paulson and Edward Mane. _

_Article written by Jonah White_

_15 th May 2072”_

By the time Judith finished reading, tears were rolling freely down her dark cheeks, her breaths shaky and uneven.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered, staring blankly at her husband’s bright screen. It was always so bright.

“We wanted it to be a surprise for everyone, including you,” Mark replied softly, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s the least we could do.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to go,” Judith commented, burying her nose in her husband’s soft curly hair. “My dad, I mean.”

“I know,” Mark said simply, enveloping Judith’s hand with his broad one. She laced their fingers together, their hands resting uncomfortably on his shoulder. After a few minutes, she planted a kiss on his brow and let his hand go, picking up the forgotten potatoes and gently dumping them into the pot.

 

…

 

_1 st June 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_It’s been a month since you left us. I can acknowledge it now, but it still hurts beyond measure. I have given up hoping that it will ever stop. It won’t. You mattered too much to me for this pain to fade so quickly._

_I went to a few talk-shows over the past week. All of them wanted to talk about you. I would cry every day after coming home. Having to bear other people’s condolences was painful, but the greatest torture was having to talk about you as if I don’t still have the image of your death stamped on every corner of my mind._

_No matter how much I try to focus on the happy memories, that horrid image blocks my every path to happy times._

_Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave me behind? I need you, Phil, more than you will ever know._

_I love you._

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

…

 

_11 th June 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_It’s my 81 st birthday today. Annie woke me early with kisses, and Judith and Mark brought me breakfast to bed. We all sat together and watched Annie’s new favourite cartoon as we ate. Did you know they are playing Adventure Time on the telly again? I remember watching that with you as we snuggled on the couch. _

_Remembering has not gotten easier, and I still end up in the same memory. They say these things hurt less with time, but I am inclined to believe it is a lie._

_After that, Judith helped me dress and we all got a train ride to Brighton. We went to the beach – only to sit on the rocks, as the water’s still freezing – and then we grabbed lunch at a little restaurant next to the pier._

_We found Fonsie there, Marzia’s grandson. I hadn’t seen him since Felix’s funeral last year. At least I think that was the last time… Anyway, he’s been doing alright. His husband is currently in Finland and Fonsie will join him next week. Their businesses have been going well, from what he told me. He was in a rush, so we didn’t talk for long. He did give me his condolences. Hearing that after being wished a happy birthday is confusing, to say the least._

_I fell asleep on the train back to London. I find that I have been falling asleep more easily and more often, lately. Judith has noticed as well. Sometimes, I catch her staring at me as if I’ll die at any moment. I just smile at her._

_She’s still afraid after everything, which is comprehensible. We’re all still suffering, but we’re all trying to get ourselves back together again. It will take time, but we’ll get there._

_I missed you, today. I always do._

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

…

 

“Miss Howell-Lester?”

Judith sprang from her seat as quickly as she could, trying to run towards the nurse with her limp. Mark raced after her, little Annie holding onto his neck as he hurried.

“What happened? Is he okay?” Judith asked frantically, holding onto Mark’s sleeve unsteadily.

The nurse looked down at her notepad and then back at Judith, her gaze soft and apologetic. “Follow me,” she commanded, turning around and walking towards the Intensive Care unit.

Judith gulped and looked at her husband through her red-rimmed eyes, her chin quavering. “I can’t do this, Mark… I can’t..,” she choked, grabbing his hand desperately. He returned the grip, gulping as well.

“We have to,” was all he needed to say for her to nod and walk after the nurse as quickly as she could.

They didn’t take long to stop again in front of a room. The nurse took a deep breath and looked at the couple worriedly.

“What’s going on with him?” Judith nearly growled, her glare boring into the nurse’s eyes. Mark gasped almost inaudibly beside her, but Judith silenced him by squeezing his hand fiercely.

The nurse’s face crumpled into a frown and she sighed. “Your father didn’t have a stroke, as you feared. He’s currently asleep.”

Judith wavered in her spot, but Mark enveloped her in a side hug. Her gaze was unfixed, her wide eyes moving rapidly. “He’s alright, then? My dad’s alright?” she asked, her shoulders slumping in relief. When silence met her question, she looked up and stared at the nurse again, whose lips were pursed.

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” she asked again, her voice small, merely above a whisper.

“Mrs Howell-Lester,-“

“Judith. Please.”

“Judith,” the nurse began, shifting uncomfortably. “Your father didn’t have a stroke, but what he had were symptoms for something else entirely. The symptoms are similar to those of a stroke, but the cause is very different.”

Mark’s eyes grew wide, shaking his head in denial. “It cannot be…”

Judith’s brow creased as she looked at her husband. “What can’t it be?”

“Remember when we made that programme about brain diseases and cancers?” Judith nodded slowly, her eyes wide. “There was one with symptoms similar to those of a stroke. Is it GBM?”

The nurse closed her eyes for an instant, before facing the couple again. “Yes.”

Judith gaped as she looked between her husband, who was cursing under his breath, and the nurse. “Well, and what does that mean?”

“It means your father has glioblastoma, Mrs Howell-Lester,” the nurse replied sadly.

“It’s Judith,” she growled, growing angrier by the second, “and what the fuck does that mean?”

The nurse pursed her lips once more before answering.

“It means, Judith, that your father has brain cancer.”

 

…

 

_10 th July 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_I have not written to you in a long time. According to the last letter I could find, it has been nearly a month. It has been quite hectic around here, and not for good reasons._

_I passed out a few weeks ago. Luckily, I was in my bed, so I didn’t hit my head. The doctors found that I had glioblastoma. It’s a very lethal kind of brain cancer. I’ve been scheduled to get surgery tomorrow. The doctors said that would try to remove as much of the tumour as possible, but because it has finger-like tentacles, they said that there would most likely be areas they wouldn’t be able to reach. After that, I will start having chemo and radiation._

_Turns out the doctors have suspected I had it since the last time I was here. Judith was beyond herself when she found out. Mark and her are suing the hospital for medical malpractice. She has been so angry lately, and she’s taking it all out on the hospital._

_Having reporters popping up here every other day has not been helping in any way. I think she nearly hit a pap once._

_Mark has been keeping the house together now, allowing Judith to rest more. She spends most of her time taking care of Annie or keeping me company here at the hospital._

_I find it funny how the nurses avoid coming into my room when Judith’s around. She built a reputation for herself within the hospital, and anyone who is the slightest bit smart will know not to mess with our girl. It’s a silly thing to find funny, I know, but one needs these outlets when in the midst of so much anguish._

…

 

“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?” asked Judith, gingerly caressing her father’s wrinkled hand, unable to stop staring at the gauze wrapped around his head.

“For the hundredth time, Miss Howell-Lester, he is supposed to sleep this long. We are expecting him to wake at 5PM. Maybe a bit after that, but definitely not before. Do you understand?” replied nurse Micah, the fieriest of the nurses that regularly took care of Dan. Judith knew her well.

She closed her eyes and nodded quickly, before exhaling loudly and settling herself against her chair as comfortably as she could.

‘ _Might as well sleep_ ,’ she thought as she closed her eyes. Soon, her breaths were matching those of her slumbering father.

 

…

 

“Good morning, Mr. Howell,” greeted Gloria, a young nurse who had only finished her studies the year before, as she entered the room with a trolley.

“Good morning,” replied Dan, his voice rough from the lack of use. It was still the morning, after all.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, the jovial lilt of her voice marked by a barely noticeable Argentinian accent. From what Dan has learned, Gloria lived in Argentina until she was 10, but then her parents decided to move to the UK in search of better job opportunities. She speaks English fluently, but she never quite lost the Argentinian accent. Dan thought she sounded lovely.

“As well as I always sleep,” he replied with a smile, looking at Gloria as she lifted the back of his bed and placed a tray over his lap. “Porridge. Again. What a lovely surprise.”

Gloria giggled, shaking her head in amused. “I told them to make it less watery this time. I don’t know if they cared to listen to me.”

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Dan said easily, before picking up the spoon with his left hand. Moving his left side was getting easier since he woke the first time, but it was still much more difficult than he remembered.

Slowly, he rose the spoon to his lips and tasted the porridge. His face immediately contorted into a grimace. “They didn’t. In fact, I think they forgot to add the sugar in spite.”

Gloria shook her head disapprovingly. “I can’t believe them. One thing is to accidently make it bad. Another thing is to deliberately make it bad.”

“What can I say?” began Dan. “This hospital is not exactly known for the friendliness of its staff. I think, my dear, you are one of the only few who are actually nice to their patients.”

“It has gotten worse since the lawsuit,” Gloria commented as she sat down beside Dan’s bed. “The media hasn’t been kind to us ever since word got out that your daughter was suing us. The hospital only agreed to pay the compensation to try and save its reputation. I don’t think it helped, though. The number of patients is dwindling every day. Everybody is angry and afraid in here.”

“And it shows on the porridge,” Dan said easily. Both of them laughed before slipping into a comfortable silence. Dan kept on eating his watery, bland porridge as Gloria looked at the ring on her left hand.

“Well, that is new,” commented Dan, setting his half-finished porridge aside. He felt that, should he eat anymore, he would vomit all over himself, and that was a situation he would avoid as much as he could, thank you very much. “When did they propose?”

“Pete proposed to John and I last Saturday. The three of us went to get dinner and have a walk next to the Thames. Pete stopped in his tracks suddenly and started spewing non-sense. John and I were worried, trying to help him, but then Pete fell to his knees and pulled out two rings. We were shocked, but accepted, of course,” she told, caressing the ring adoringly. “I never thought he would propose. The bill for the legalization of polyamorous marriage has not passed yet, and may be at risk of not passing at all, but Pete said he didn’t care. He said that should the bill pass, we would be the first couple to get married, but the bill wasn’t his priority. We are his priority, and he wanted to have us engaged so we would never forget it.”

“I can’t pretend that I really understand how polyamorous works, but I do understand love, and if the three of you are adult, happy and have consented, then all I can say is that I am happy for your happiness,” Dan confessed, caressing Gloria’s shoulder gingerly.

“I don’t ask for understanding, just for acceptance, and you have always given it to me, so don’t worry, Mr. Howell. Thank you.”

“I bet understanding feels nice, though,” Dan noted, raising his eyebrow somewhat.

“It does, especially because it’s still so rare. But I can’t bring myself to be angry about it. We have been socially conditioned to think of couples as a two-person thing for so many years that I can’t blame anyone for not understanding me. I didn’t understand myself at first, after all… All I ask for is respect,” Gloria confessed, softly patting Dan’s hand on her shoulder.

“You know, it was us, the homosexuals, bisexuals and transsexuals who had a really hard time back in my day. We have achieved peaceful times between the LGBTQIA+ and the cishets, but it doesn’t mean that we reached it without bloodshed.”

“You are now going through the homosexual’s 2015, let’s say. You still have a long road ahead of you, but you will eventually get to where you ideally want to be,” Dan promised, smiling at the nurse, who was sniffling through her smile.

“You always say the nicest things. I am lucky to have met you, Mr. Howell,” Gloria smiled tearfully, caressing Dan’s cheek.

“And I am lucky to have met you. It’s always nice to see youth being, well, jovial. It has been a while since I personally witnessed it.”

Their smiles fell then. “How’s Judith?” asked Gloria, her brows creased ever so slightly. Dan sighed, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“She’s managing, I guess. She has been focusing on her work and on the family quite obsessively in order to repress her feelings. It’s been difficult for her.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine it..,” Gloria spoke softly, her gaze fixed on the window. “It must be so hard, to deal with so much all at once…”

“Indeed it is..,” agreed Dan, looking at what he could of the landscape beyond the window. He thought it looked like a Sunday.

After a few silent moment, Gloria sat up straighter and put on a smile. “Guess what Doctor Blake told me today.”

“That he’s finally shaving his ass?” Dan replied dryly as Gloria guffawed. “Honestly, whenever he bends over all I see is ass hair.”

“Why are you even looking at his butt when he bends over?” Gloria managed through her laughter.

“Honey, I’m old not blind,” he said, which earned him even more laughter from her. “At first I thought it was nice, but all that hair is quite the turn-off.”

“I heard your man was quite the hairy one, though,” Gloria retorted, her tongue poking out teasingly as she laughed. Dan didn’t know whether it was the mention of Phil or her resemblance to him, but Dan felt himself freeze in his place and pale.

Noting her mistake, Gloria leaned over and caressed Dan’s cheek softly with wide eyes. “Mr. Howell? Mr. Howell? Please, I’m sorry I said what I said. Mr. Howell, please…”

Dan blinked a couple of times before looking at her again, as recomposed as he could be. “It’s quite alright, dear, don’t worry.”

Gloria frowned as she studied his face. Eventually she sighed and let go, resting back against her chair again.

“What did Doctor Blake say?” Dan asked after a while, trying to ease their way back into conversation.

Gloria seemed much relieved after Dan’s approach, and was smiling at him honestly once again. “He said that, instead of taking you on the wheelchair, I could let you walk to the loo.”

Dan had to blink a couple of times. “He said I could walk?”

Gloria was smiling openly now. “He did, indeed. If you’re feeling up for it, that is.”

After a few stunned, silent moments, Dan slowly nodded his consent, an eager smile spreading across his face. “Yes, please.”

 

…

 

“We are trying our best with the chemotherapy, but the patient doesn’t seem to be responding,” Dan heard one of the doctors say. “It’s been three months. We have no other means to treat him.”

“Keep trying.”

“Mrs. Howell-Lester, we can keep up the chemo, but when we reach a plateau such as this, we come to a point in which the patient has to choose whether they want to proceed with the treatments or go into hospice care.”

“Keep trying.”

“Judith, it’s your father wh-“

“I said keep trying.”

“Mrs. Howell-Lester, I am afraid that this is a decision that can only be taken by your father-“

“It’s Judith, God damn it, and I told you to keep on fucking trying!”

“Judith!”

“I want to go into hospice care.”

Silence fell in the room, and Judith slowly turned towards her father. “Dad, you will continue with the chemo and that’s the end of it.”

“Judith, chemo is not working! All it’s ever done is cause me pain, when glioblastoma usually doesn’t hurt at all. I want to die a peaceful, quiet death, surrounded by my family and friends, not an awful, painful death caused by ineffective treatment.”

“But, Dad..,” started Judith, and didn’t she sound like a scared child all over again. It stole Dan’s breath away.

“My decision is taken. I will go into hospice care,” Dan proclaimed with an air of finality, his voice sounding stronger than he felt.

“Daddy, please..,” sobbed Judith, as she held on to Dan’s sleeve. “Please…”

“Judith, my dear, we both have seen this coming for a long time. Glioblastoma is an unapologetic murderer, you know this,” Dan said, burying his trembling fingers in Judith’s dishevelled, knotted hair.

“I know, I just didn’t think it would be so soon..,” she admitted, tears running freely down her cheeks. “So soon after… After losing dad.”

“I know, love, I know,” he said, hugging her close to his chest, where she sobbed frantically.

“Mr. Howell, we will come later to take care of the paperwork for the hospice care, if you don’t mind,” Doctor Blake informed, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the room. Dan simply nodded, his disregard for the man evident.

The doctors left the room, leaving it in a silence broken only by Judith’s unrelenting sobs and Dan’s occasional hushing.

 

…

 

“I think this is it, Mr. Howell,” said Mrs. Tash, the hospital’s representative for hospice care related paperwork. “Would you like to request anything special for the care?”

“Not much,” he replied, taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table. “Only one small thing.”

“Ask away. Anything for the comfort of our patients,” she declared, smiling sweetly at him. Dan’s eyebrow rose ever so slightly at her words, but he refused to comment.

“If possible, I would like for Gloria Santos to be the nurse who keeps up my care.”

“Sure,” Tash agreed easily. “I will talk to her to check her schedule, but she should be available to care for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Howell. As I said before, anything for the comfort of our patients.”

 

…

 

_30 th October 2072_

_Dear Phil,_

_This time, it is not me who is writing this letter. Gloria is writing it for me, as I can no longer move my left side. I don’t remember the last time I wrote you a letter, but I know it has been a long time._

_Chemo didn’t work in the end, so I decided to go into hospice care. I’ve been home for over two weeks, and it’s truly astonishing how aggressive glioblastoma is. I need help in everything I do, and it has become a regular occurrence for either Judith or Gloria to clean my vomit at least twice a day. I can’t keep any food in me anymore. I don’t feel any pain, though, not after I stopped having chemo._

_I can feel it coming, Phil. I don’t have much longer in this world. Gloria is crying already, and she’s looking at me funny because I am telling her to write this sentence. I will miss her._

_Or will I miss anything at all? Can we even miss anything there where you are or is it something only felt by the living? This saudade, this bitter-sweetness… I know I’ll discover soon enough, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering._

_I found that I do not fear my death at all. I have come to terms with it a long time ago. Strangely enough, knowing I will die soon has made it much easier for me to accept your own death._

_I don’t remember your death very clearly anymore, but then, I don’t remember much in the first place. All seems to be fading, and all that remains are blurry memories of moments that once truly mattered to me. Now, I don’t know what matters. Is it that I lived? Is it that I’ve known, and still know, love? Is it that I contributed to the happiness of some people throughout my career? What matters in the end?_

_I should like to think that what truly matters is that I enjoyed life my own way for as long as I could. Yes, I think that’s it._

_On the day after tomorrow, Judith and Gloria are taking me to the cemetery. It’s the Day of the Dead, after all, and I want to visit you one last time._

_Today is a Sunday, but strangely, it doesn’t feel like a Sunday._

_Forever yours,_

_Dan_

 

…

 

“I haven’t been here… in a very long time..,” commented Dan, his voice slow and drawled. His eyes moved quickly, taking in every detail as they crossed Rossendale’s cemetery, though his body didn’t move.

“We haven’t,” replied Judith, who was pushing her father’s wheelchair through the linear paths of the graveyard. “But it has not changed much. Look, dad’s grave is right up ahead.”

They stopped in front of Phil’s grave and just stared. On the headstone was an old picture of Phil, followed by the standard headstone inscriptions. Dan felt his eyes water. He had not remembered the way Phil had once looked for so long, but now, looking at the picture, he could suddenly see him clearly.

Phil, the love of his life. The brave, gentle human being to did not mind to lose as long as it helped someone else. So fair, so beautiful… His Phil, his long-gone Phil…

Judith placed a hand on Dan’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly, a stray tear trailing down her cheek.

Gloria stood beside them, looking at the headstone with sad curiosity. She’d wondered how Dan would react when he finally saw Phil’s grave again.

The past couple of weeks had been distressing for Gloria. She didn’t mind taking care of Mr. Howell – in fact, taking care of him was one of the joys of her life -, but he had acquired a strange behaviour after shifting to hospice care. He was convinced he would die soon, but never telling anyone exactly when he thought he would pass.

Caring for someone who kept their own countdown was disturbing.

The three of them stood in silence before Phil’s grave for several long moments, as if entranced by the power of standing who had once been dear.

Suddenly, Dan’s weak voice interrupted everyone’s thoughts.

“I want you to leave me alone with Phil.”

“What?” cried Judith, incredulously. “I’m not leaving you!”

“I’m not telling you to leave me forever, just for long enough,” he countered, trying to look at his daughter to show how displeased he was.

“Long enough?” inquired Gloria, raising her brow.

“Long enough for me to say my goodbyes,” he concluded, setting his eyes of Phil’s picture.

“Dad...,” sighed Judith, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I need this, Judith, and I will hear no protest from either of you. Now, help me sit on the ground.”

“No, Dad, and why would you need to sit on the ground?” Judith asked incredulously, her eyes wide and brows creased. Gloria was frozen in place, processing what she was hearing.

“Don’t make me do it myself!” Dan threatened, placing his right hand on the armrest and trying to pull himself up.

“Dad!”

“Judith..,” Gloria began, placing her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Let him.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Judith cried out.

“Thank you!” Dan smiled, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Judith, he has to. It will give him closure. Allow him this,” Gloria reasoned, looking straight into Judith’s eyes. “It’s the least we can do.”

“I will not!”

“Judith, please..,” plead Dan, his voice weak and wavering.

“Dad,-“

“Please…”

After a few moments of mentally debating with herself, Judith finally nodded crossly, conceding to her father’s request. Carefully, the two women lowered Dan to the ground, sitting him next to his husband’s grave. They remained crouched before him, and he brought his right hand to Judith’s cheek.

“Thank you, to the both of you,” Dan began, smiling like he hadn’t since Phil’s death. “Thank  you for everything you’ve done for me, for this little favour… You’ve been indispensable these past couple of months, and for that, I will never be able to thank you.”

“Dad, why are you speaking like these are your last words?” Judith whispered, looking searchingly at her father.

“I’m just speaking my heart, dear. After all, who knows for how long I will be able to speak?”

“Dad..-“

“Hush, my love. Let me speak.”

When no resistance met Dan’s request, he nodded ever so slightly, as much as his old neck allowed, and continued.

“Gloria, you are the best nurse I could have ever asked for. Your young spirit helped alleviate the pains of my older heart, and for that I thank you. I wish you the best of luck with your future, your soon-to-be husbands, and whatever adventure you choose to live. Remember, life and happiness are for the living, not for the dead. The dead are just that, dead, nothing else,” he pointed out with a raised brow. Then, his expression morphed into a smile, and he added, very softly, “may you continue to grace the days of many others with your light.”

“And you, my child. My sweet Judith, “he called, making his daughter smile with glistening eyes. “You have brought me so much joy in my life, from the moment we picked you up at the adoption centre to this day. When all seemed to go wrong, I knew I could go home and have you and your father look at me like you always do, and all would suddenly be okay again. And when I doubted myself, you were the one thing that assured me I was doing some good in this Earth. You are my greatest pride, my joy, I would see you be happy, my love,” he confessed, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You found Mark, a lovely lad who makes you very happy, and you have blessed our family with a beautiful child of your own, wee little Annie. Take care of them, and let them take care of you. You are strong, Judith, but have to let others help you sometimes. No one is strong enough to face every obstacle life throws at them. Accept help when it’s being offered sincerely, and all pains will become easier to bear.”

“I love you, my dear. Never forget that,” he smiled, finishing his little speech.

“Never,” Judith whispered shakily. “I love you too, dad.”

“Good. Now come hug your old man!”

He barely had time to finish his sentence before being enveloped by his daughter’s arms. He laughed happily, hugging his daughter back with as much strength as his right arm could muster.

“You too, Gloria,” he invited, his gaze fixing itself on the young nurse. “I would hug you as well.”

Slowly, and a little bit awkwardly, Gloria joined the hug. The three stayed like that for a few moments, before Dan grew antsy and ushered them away.

“See? This is why I don’t like you speaking like that. It feels like I’m saying goodbye!” Judith complained, dusting herself off.

“Yes..,” Dan drawled, averting his gaze. Gloria narrowed her eyes, and Judith froze in her place.

“Dad?”

“No, no, don’t worry. Go. I think I saw some pretty flowers on our way here. Go look for them. I would like to place them on Phil’s grave,” he reassured, waving his right hand dismissively.

 

…

 

The two women walked away, looking back at Dan many times before fixing their gazes ahead.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Judith confessed, crossing her arms at her chest.

“Me too,” Gloria agreed, looking at snow-covered ground.

“Why are walking away, then?” Judith asked, mostly to herself.

“Because he needs this,” Gloria replied. “And because we owe him.”

Thus, they went down the path in search of the flowers they were sure they hadn’t seen anywhere but were willing to look for.”

 

…

 

“It seems that now that the time has come, I found myself at a loss for words to say,” Dan began, shaking his head as much as his neck allowed. Then, he twisted where he sat just enough to be able to see Phil’s headstone, which he caressed softly.

“I guess it’s understandable. I haven’t spoken to you in such close proximity in a very long time. Well, not that we are talking in close proximity. You’re dead after all. I just haven’t been so physically close to you in a long time…”

“Or perhaps it’s not that,” Dan whispered, looking down at his own hands. “Perhaps it’s the fact that this is it. This is the end. My story can finally stop being written.”

“Do all authors feel like this when they finish their stories? Do they all feel lost? Do they feel this difficulty to find suitable words in which to end their stories?”

“I heard that many authors feel that beginnings are much harder to write.” Dan paused before scoffing. “There are no beginnings. We’re all continuations of each other, stuck in a vicious cycle that never, ever stops. You may find that a  newborn’s birth is a beginning, but really, it is just another step in a mother’s life. It’s continuation.”

He paused. “Well, I guess that if we follow this logic, then endings don’t exist as well. Your ending was a continuation for me, and my death will be a continuation for Judith. We’re all just furthering the cycle…”

Dan stroked Phil’s face on his photo with his thumb adoringly. “I have missed you for a very long time, you know? I don’t remember much from before, but one thing I know for sure: my life has been empty ever since I lost you. Judith gave me a sense of purpose, but in the end, it was not enough… Sometimes, I feel that it should be enough, that Judith not wanting me to part should be enough for me to want to stay, to fight a little longer, but I’ve always been selfish. You were the charitable, selfless one, not me. I believe you used to say I was selfless as well, but I’m not.”

“You would never have been selfless enough to willingly leave your family behind. I am. That’s the difference between you and me, Phil.”

“You wouldn’t judge me for this, because you have always been too good for the world we were born into,” Dan confessed, looking at the swaying trees, the branches dancing with the wind.

“There is goodness in this world. It’s easy to get caught up by the bad and the bleak, but there is good. There are things worth fighting for…”

Dan sighed, and, clumsily, he laid down on the cold, snow-covered ground, wiggling a bit to make himself comfortable. “Enough of this mindless chatter, though. This moment doesn’t need words, as I very stubbornly believed. Why bother with words when no one else is here to bear witness. It’s just me, the elements, and a faint memory of you, my love.”

Dan closed his eyes, his body relaxing. He felt his coat grow damp, and the cold seeping into his bones, but how much can snow cool an already cold body?

“This is my continuation, Phil. I don’t know where it will lead me, but I’m ready to go. I’m ready to move on.”

Numbness began taking over his body, and, slowly, Dan stopped his body. Consciousness was threatening to leave him, the ultimate blankness of mind luring him to his final sleep. Still, Dan find the strength to utter two last words.

“I’m ready.”

Darkness took him, and Dan Howell was no more in this world. He continued.

 

…

 

“Do you think Dad will like these?” asked Judith, as she inspected the bouquet of orchids and lilies in her hands. They had gone to the florist near the cemetery to buy some flowers as they had not found any ready to pluck from the ground. They told the florist the purpose and she quickly put the bouquet together. It was beautiful, yes, but something felt of about it, and Judith didn’t know why.

 “I think he will,” replied Gloria, who had her hands stuffed in her coat pockets. “I think we should hurry, though. It’s quite cold, and we left your father sitting on the floor.”

“Oh, his butt will be all damp from the snow,” Judith groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I bet he will be complaining about it all the way home,” Gloria teased, trying to mask the anxiety she felt.

Judith laughed, but it wasn’t heartfelt. “Yes. That ought to teach him not to be stubborn like that.”

Gloria tried to laugh, but it sounding more like a grunt than anything else. “Yes.”

They fell into companionable, though anxious, silence as they made their way to Phil’s grave. Soon, they could see a black blur on the floor next to it.

“I think I can see him,” Judith commented. Then, she narrowed he eyes. “Is it just me, or is he lying down on the snow?”

Gloria’s eyes were wide. “It’s not just you. He is lying on the ground, and he is not moving!”

The two women started to run then, and the closer they grew to the shape on the group, the more trepidation invaded them. Gloria stopped in her tracks, seeing quite clearly how Mr. Howell did not move and how his lips had acquired a purple tint thanks to the cold.

“Dad?” Judith called in shock, panting where she stood. Her hands grew weak, and the bouquet fell to the ground with a muted thud. She brought a trembling hand to her quavering mouth. “Dad?!” she called louder, her brows creased and eyes glistening.

Judith fell to her knees and crawled her way to her father. She brought her hands to his face, but it felt like touching ice. She touched his throat but felt no pulse. She screamed, her anguish echoing through the dead nothingness of the cemetery.

“DAD!” she cried wretchedly, holding onto his clothes desperately as she sobbed and sobbed.

Gloria just stared, incapable of believing what she was witnessing, and remembering the last words Dan Howell had directed at her.

_“Remember, life and happiness are for the living, not for the dead. The dead are just that, dead, nothing else…”_

Tears flowed down her cheeks but she barely felt them. All she felt was the bite of cold on her face and gnawing ache growing in her heart.

She was numb.

 

…

 

Numbness was indeed the best word Judith could find to describe what she felt.

She stood at the Rossendale cemetery, clad in a black dress and a black overcoat, to bury one of her parents once more. Mark was at her side, his right arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his warmth. She’d been cold ever since that fateful Tuesday, but Mark always tried to bring some warmth back into her, make it circulate in her veins. Annie, though, was the only one who managed to scratch at the surface of her ice. She was her daughter after all.

Looking at her right, her eyes met with Gloria’s, who too was clad in all black, her eyes red from crying. The nurse frowned as she met Judith’s gaze, but Judith remained unmoving.

It was then that sound seemed to make itself audible to Judith once more, for she heard the priest speak for the first time since she’d set foot on the graveyard.

"May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace."

One by one – or in pairs -, Judith’s familial relations abandoned the graveside, until the only ones who remained were Gloria, Mark, Annie and herself.

“Judith, love, let’s go,” Mark murmured, caressing her back comfortingly.

“Not yet,” Judith replied, her voice tight like a violin string. “You go on ahead. Take Annie with you. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Do you want to talk to Gloria?” Mark asked, gathering Annie in his arms. Judith simply nodded her confirmation. Mark kissed her temples and waved at Gloria before making his way to the car with Annie.

Thus, the two women were left alone in the Rossendale cemetery. Slowly, Gloria approached the other woman, standing at her side between Judith’s parents’ graves.

“He’s finally where he’s wanted to be after Dad died..,” Judith commented, her voice low, barely above a whisper.

“He is,” Gloria agreed, crossing her arms across her chest. “I hope he’s happy wherever he is.”

Judith scoffed. “He’s not happy. He’s dead. The dead don’t feel. The living who are left behind are the ones who feel.”

“You don’t need to be cynical,” Gloria reprimanded without lifting her gaze from the graves.

“I’m not being cynical, I am being realistic,” Judith countered, crossing her arms as well. “Don’t tell me you expect to me believe that my father followed my dad into Heaven, where they spend their time shagging or relaxing in a hot tub with pints of Ribena.”

“I don’t, because I don’t believe in such things myself..,” retorted Gloria, sighing as she looked for an appropriate response but not finding it. She opted to remain silent instead.

A few moments passed in which neither woman uttered a single word, both too focused on studying the graves before them, one well-settled into the ground and the other fresh, to think of ways to further the conversation. But then, suddenly, Judith broke the silence.

“I never thought this day would come,” she confessed, her gaze still fixed on the graves. “I never even considered being orphan, but then, who the hell does? How am I supposed to deal with this? How am I supposed to be an orphan?”

“You aren’t,” replied Gloria. “No one is. No one knows how to learn how to be an orphan, but we’re all eventually forced through this path and, eventually, we learn how to deal with it.”

“Are you an orphan?” asked Judith, her voice acquiring a curious tone. “You speak like one.

“I am.”

“When?”

“When I was 16. I have been living with my aunts ever since. Aunt Isabella and aunt Valentina. They never got married, as they didn’t think they needed to, but Isabella took responsibility over me and they have been raising me as their own daughter ever since.”

“They sound like good women. I see where you get it from,” complimented Judith, smiled slightly to herself. Gloria thanked her, a smile blossoming in her features as well.

“How long did it take to learn how to live without them?”

“It took me over two years to be able to say that I could fully function without them,” responded Gloria, her eyes clouding as she remembered. “Those were some rough two years, but I got better. The death of my parents taught me many things, and one of them was to always push forward, to always keep going no matter what life throws at you. It may be bad, things may hurt, but you never know when you’ll reach the good times that will make up for all you’ve lost.”

“And have you reached those times?” asked Judith, her gaze still fixed on the graves.

“I have. I have two beautiful husbands who love me and each other very much, we have a nice house, good jobs, supportive families, and a peaceful lifestyle. I can ask for no more than this.”

“I already have the love of my life and my daughter,” commented Judith.

“I know, but it doesn’t mean you have completely reached those good times,” retorted Gloria. “But, if you have, maybe it’s just a matter of you relearning how to appreciate the happiness you have found. You’ll only know if you try.”

The women fell into silence again, and they stood together for a very long time. Judith looked towards her right, towards Gloria, and she smiled when their gazes met. Then, she extended a hand towards the other woman.

“It was nice meeting you.”

Gloria grabbed the offered hand and shook it.

“You too.”

“Thank you for everything, Gloria.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she reassured, before letting go of Judith’s hand.

They smiled at each other once more, before following their own separate ways.

“Are you okay?” asked Mark upon Judith’s arrival. She looked up at him, deep into his eyes, and she felt immensely grateful for having him in her life. She smiled a little smile and nodded. They shared a brief kiss before getting into the car and driving home.

Life would never be the same without her parents, but Judith was determined to make it work nonetheless.

She would.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was it for The Story of a YouTuber and a Former Technician, guys.
> 
> It's strange to finally arrive at this point, but it's also very satisfying.
> 
> This story has been with me for over a year, and now it's finally all laid out on paper (well, it's technically on the Internet but we'll ignore that). I'm very glad that I was able to share this story with all of you, and I am even happier that I received so much support from you guys, especially for Bad Day's Power Play. I could never have imagined that that story would be so successful, but I am happy that it happened. 
> 
> Above all, I am very grateful for your support. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten the motivation to finish this story.
> 
> I would like to once again thank Oriana for helping me with BDPP and for listening to my rambling about this series, and I would like to thank my best friend, Ruby, for worriedly reminding me to post this story in time. You're both great, and this series wouldn't have been written without you two. Thank you. <3
> 
> To finish this author's note, I would like to announce that this will most likely be the last work I ever write for the Phandom. I jave had a great time with you guys, but I no longer identify with the shipping part of the Phandom. I still support and love the boys, but I won't create or consume any material based on Phan any more. I hope you guys understand. 
> 
> If you would like to know where my interests lie now, you can head over to my Tumblr, @ereboreansoul, and check the contents I reblog. They are mostly related to LoTR, the Hobbit, and Bagginshield, so if you are a Tolkienite, I invite you to join me on Tumblr. (Btw, this Tumblr account is new. I deleted @unitedstatesofparadise because I wanted to start over with a blog centered around Tolkien.)
> 
> Thank you, guys, for sharing this journey with me. I hope it was worth you while. It was definitely worth mine.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Sofia


End file.
